


You

by brightfuture



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightfuture/pseuds/brightfuture
Summary: You've been invited to a party for the ideologies. Curious. You wonder if you are going to meet anyone interesting there. You're excited, but a little nervous. You heard the authoritarians might be coming. They're legendary... and scary.
Relationships: Authright/Authleft
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	You

You’re at a party with all the ideologies- scratch that, all the ideologies with actual purpose. The centrists get kicked away at the door. Ancap has brought a plus one that looks far too young to be here, and Ancom keeps trying to give you different drugs. Posadist is on the couch rambling at Socialist, who looks scared. Libertarian and Hoppean seem to be making a business deal with Transhumanist, who’s giving some pitch about robo-penises.

You cup your drink and stand in the corner idly, almost awkwardly, observing the bizarre crowd, when in walk two men, who look far too good to be here. They both wear pristine uniforms and attitude’s to match. The room stops for them, they own the room. You’ve heard of these men before, you think, they’re the authoritarians. You decide you want to introduce yourself, so when they lean up against the opposite wall and start whispering to each other, you leave your cup on the table and decide to to approach them.

As you do, the taller one says something in the other’s ear, and the smaller one leaves, heading somewhere behind you.

“Hi,” you say humbly when you’ve come close enough.

“Hello,” the man replies in a Russian accent you weren’t expediting. You feel yourself fall for his charisma as he says, “I do not think we have met yet. I am authoritarian left, but you can also call me communist-“

He leans in closer. He has to bend down tolook you in the eyes.

“-or just Commie, as a nick name.”

He winks and you feel your face get warm and your heart flutter. He leans back up and looks over your shoulder.

Loudly he exclaims, “and there is my lover. Authoritarian right. But you can call him Nazi.”

The second man- Nazi, joins his boyfriend at the wall again, holding two drinks. He hands one to Commie, glaring at you.

“Nice to meet you, Nazi,” you try, sheepishly, scared under the death ray his eyes send at you.

“I’m not a nazi, do not call me that,” he scolds comfortably, unafraid of offending you, “you will call me white identitarian race realist, or authoritarian right, or fascist, or, preferably, nothing at all.”

Commie chuckles and puts his arm around Nazi’s shoulder.

“I forgot,” he lies, “he only likes it when I call him that.”

He lifts one hand up to cartoonishly whisper, “it’s kind of a pet name, he mostly hears it in bed.”

Naz- Fascist stares at you furiously, and you start to fear for your well-being. Commie recognises your tension and moves his hand up to the back of the blue man’s neck. The man softens and looks aside, his face flushing slightly red as Commie starts to play with the hair on the back of his head.

“Don’t be so mean to our new comrade,” he orders the other man lightheartedly. The man throws an angry side glance up at you.

“Oh, Nazi,” Commie sighs, grabbing the man’s face with his other hand in what seemed like a rather violent manner for a lover, “you little brat.”

Then he pulls his face close, and they start making out. Facist curls into Commie, closing his eyes, but Commie’s eyes stay open. He’s making dead eye contact with you, peering into your soul with unamused eyes. You stand there stiffly, unsure of what to do. Commie slithers his hand down into the other man’s back pocket, while still maintaining eye contact with you. Has he even blinked?

You give an uneasy nod goodbye and turn around, unsure of what to make of the interaction you just had. As you head for the drinks table for some liquid relief, Anarcho-monarchist approaches you, throwing one arm around you loosely.

“I see you just met the authoritarians.” His tone is friendly and light, a comfort after the harsh energy of the recent encounter. “They can be a bit intense. Don’t let them get to your head. Commie gets off on fucking with people, especially the fascist, and Fascist gets off on being fucked with by Commie, especially in front of others, even though, or maybe because, his pride and ego has given him this greater-than-thou superiority complex. Thinks he’s better than everyone in the room. Except for, well, Commie, of course. Follow's his command like a puppy.”


End file.
